Tom and John

July 3, 2017

Greetings from the leap of faith,

“You know, just because we sign this thing doesn’t mean everything is going to be utopia.”

Tom looked at him.  He was slumped in a chair that was only slightly more comfortable than sitting on the floor.  His backside was numb.  “We have been over this.  Please sign it so we can go home.”

John scratched his head under his wig and then pulled it off and threw it on the table.  “I’m not saying we shouldn’t do it, but I can tell you right now this is just the beginning.  I’m already getting mail.”

“Ben signed it.  I signed it. We all signed it.”  Tom said, exasperated.  “It’s just the beginning, I get that.  But we have to start somewhere and this is it.”

“It’s just that it’s easy to fall right into the same traps, the same injustices, the same..”

Tom slapped his hand on the table and startled his friend.  “John.  It’s what we have been talking about.  We will find a way, create a standard that the country can work with.  We’ll get to that. But first we have to tell the world that we are done with the old ways. Sign it.”

Dust floated through the weak sunlight that glowed at the windows.  John walked away from the table and leaned against the doorjamb and shook his head.  “I want to go up to the farm, spend the day doing nothing,” he said,  “We can deal with this later.  It’s not like changing history won’t wait for a few more days.”

Tom gritted his teeth.  “John, so help me God, you are going sign that thing today or I am going to pull your pantaloons up so hard you will see stars and stripes.”

“I’m going to sign it, but you have to know what we are setting in motion.  The future of this country hinges on the choices we make…”

Tom stood up so quickly that the chair tipped behind him and slammed to the wood floor and the noise filled the room.  “Look, you selfish goober, you are going to sign this thing today and we are taking a three day weekend.  Seriously, dude.  Don’t you think we have been considering the future?  Have you not been paying attention?”

He strode across the room and reached out and grabbed Tom by the lapels and shook him.  

“We have to sign this thing TODAY or you will wreak chaos on the future of our country.  If we don’t get this done there isn’t going to be any Fourth of July fireworks!  There isn’t going to be Fourth of July picnics or concerts or family reunions.  You have to get your John Hancock on this thing right now or there is going to be generations of government workers who are not getting this day off with pay.”

John stood in shock, his eyes wide.  He could feel Tom’s breath on his face, could see his bloodshot eyes.  He could smell that he needed a bath.  He licked his lips and said: “Wait, are we getting paid for this?”

Tom relaxed his grip on his friend’s jacket and stepped back.  “John.  I know you’re worried about the consequences of our signing this document.  But I’m telling you, if you don’t sign this today there are going to be a whole bunch of pissed off clowns and gymnasts  and Rotarians carrying briefcases because you ruined the Fourth of July parades for the rest of time.  Man, just think of all the high school marching bands that will have nothing to do. You think you’re getting mail now?  Mess with the parades and you will find out what rebellion is all about.   Those band parents are some militants.”

“But Tom, what about the trash pick up?  What happens if the Fourth of July falls on trash day; Do we put out the trash the day before, or after?  And what about the recyclables?”

“John, that’s all going to be in the constitution, I promise.”

“It better be, otherwise there will be chaos and serious arguments.  Couples will divorce over this stuff.”

Tom put his hand on John’s shoulder and gently guided him back toward the table.  He reached down and picked up the quill there and dipped it in the inkwell and handed it to John.

“It’s up to you John.  Sign this and seal our independence from tyranny and injustice and taxation without representation.  Sign this and assure for all future generations that there will be ice cream and burnt bratwurst and small town politicians throwing hard candy from antique cars.  

Sign this today and every kid who makes sparklers in a Chinese factory will thank you.”

John leaned over and added his name to the document, finishing with a flourish and then tossing the quill back on the table.  Tom looked over his shoulder.  “Geez John, did you have to make it so big?  Remind me never to go in on a birthday card with you.  What a glory hound.”

The two men walked to the door and opened it, and stepped into a future that they never imagined.  Except for the digital signs and Facebook posts that said “Happy Fourth of July” which they absolutely saw coming.

Hope this finds you independent,

David